


To Her We Kneel

by N_Down



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:02:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_Down/pseuds/N_Down
Summary: No one sets out on her quest to serve her Many Faced God once again. Through her quest, she will uncover secrets buried deep within Essos historic ruins. She will discover herself, and the meaning of the Stark name but not without difficulty. Read as she goes through a path never walked before, with lurking dangers at every turn. No One will once again become Arya Stark of Winterfell and she will thrive like no other has before her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelsey M](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kelsey+M).



The House of Black and White sits upon a rocky knoll made of dark grey stone. It has no windows and has a black tile roof. Its wooden doors are twelve feet high and carved. The left door is white, the right ebony. The centre of the doors is carved moon face ebony on weirwood, weirwood on ebony. Its grey stone steps lead down to the dock. The knoll upon which the temple sits holds many passageways cut from the rock. Priests’ sleeping cells are located on the first level beneath the main floor. The sleeping cells for the servants are on the second. The sacred chamber lies on the third level. It is a restricted area. The third level contains the many faces collected by the House. The faces are hung on the walls, and are used as disguises. In the centre of the main room on the main floor lies a pool ten feet across. Statues of gods stand around the room. There are statues of thirty gods in all. Among them are the Weeping Woman, the Lion of Night, Hooded Wayfarer, Bakkalon, the Moon-Pale Maiden, the Stranger and the Merling King. There are no services or songs of worship within the temple. The visitor can visit the pool, the gods, even ask for a priest. The house was a temple of the many-faced God and the headquarters of the Faceless Men.  
In the sacred chamber, No One knelt in front of the white and black statue representing the many-faced God. The God of death. There she recited her prayer as she would at night before retiring to her chambers. Or before she was given a name.  
“Dunsen, Chiswick, Raff the Sweetling, The Tickler, The Hound, Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Merlyn, Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis.”  
“Valar Dohaeris.”  
No One swiftly turned around to find the only man in the free cities that remained undetectable by her senses. The Kindly man bowed his head to greet their shared God. Meanwhile No one silently rose to greet the man who gives her names, reaching his side, the kindly man spoke again,  
“Who are you today girl?”  
No One gave the same response she has given for 3 years serving as a servant of the house.  
“I am No One.”  
“No, you are Beth the beggar girl.”  
By now No One knew not to be fooled.  
“Beth is a name I choose like many others as it is the way of the Faceless. I am No one.”  
The Kindly man gave a curt nod.  
“Very well. Follow me.”  
No One followed the man to the wharf. There she saw a dozen ships beside one another filled with a gaping void of sailors, captains and paying travellers. Some were parting from the ships, others boarding the ships hoping that the God’s had planned a longer destiny for them. The Kindly man was making his way towards the smallest ship of them all. It was wooden with the face of the Hooded Wayfarer. At one side and the other, there were luscious curves and a visible gold strip. There were 2 visible decks and one hidden. If she looked inside the ship she could see three steps leading to the wheel that moves the boat. What interested Arya the most, was the various slashes alongside the boat made from a sharp blade.  
“Must be from the war” She thought.  
“Does the girl desire the name?”  
“Yes.”  
It had been a month and a day since she was last given a name, she thought it very queer and in turn she had become worried. The man stopped short of the ship.  
“The name is Young Griff. Learn his true identity, learn his secrets and learn how to deliver him to our God. You will wear your true face, and you will take your true name.”  
No One could feel herself tensing.  
“I prefer to use a different face and my name is No One.”  
“No. Your name is Arya of the House Stark, whose home is Winterfell and whose eyes is those of a wolf’s.”  
No One was becoming quick-tempered.  
“You are mistaken. Arya does not exist. Arya Stark is dead. And will remain dead.” She replied sharply.  
The man turned to the young girl whose eyes had shown a flame growing inside her spirit once again.  
“Does the girl question the man? Does the girl choose to depart from the Faceless Men?”  
The young girl quickly replied in an apprehensive manner almost as if defending herself,  
“No. The girl does not question. Just serves.”  
“Very well then, what is your name?”  
No One, for the first time since given her first face, doubted her response. She knew that once that cur’sed name fell from her lips she would no longer be able to ignore her wolf’s call from inside herself. She knew that with this name she would no longer be able to forget the sound of her father’s neck skin being separated by the steel; nor the image she would see every morning before she broke her fast of her mother’s scream as she breathed her last breath. But worse of all, she would once again remember her brother’s body sewn to his direwolf’s head. The girl could feel the fur once again sprouting from herself in the inside and out.  
“My name is Arya of House Stark, whose home is in Winterfell. And the North remembers.”  
“Dunsen, Chiswick, Raff the Sweetling, The Tickler, The Hound, Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Merlyn, Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis. All men must die.”

 

Getting aboard the ship wasn’t problematic for N-Arya. All she did was show her coin and the captain awarded her with a cabin. As she was getting settled into her cabin she felt the faint murmur of footsteps. Arya straightened. She straightened because she knew those footsteps were too graceful for a man’s. She straightened because she knew the footsteps were too soft for a woman’s. She straightened because she knew the footsteps belonged to one of her natural brothers. And there was only one reason as to why a faceless man would travel with another... To cross a name off their list.

**Author's Note:**

> I will attempt to update on a weekly basis. But if not, every two weeks. This is my first book, I hope you guys enjoy.


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